


Wait

by Jessica_Bones_Winchester



Category: Captain America, MCU, Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Family, Sadness, Tragedy, it hurt to write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24617632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessica_Bones_Winchester/pseuds/Jessica_Bones_Winchester
Summary: Steve and his wife lose their unborn baby to an act of violence. Can they make it? (Inspired by Sarah McLachlan's song "Wait.")
Relationships: Steve Rogers/OFC, Steve Rogers/Original Female Character
Kudos: 13





	Wait

Leah pressed a hand to her growing stomach as she and Steve walked along the river after dinner, talking about the baby they would be welcoming in just a few months. Steve wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Feels like a dream, doesn't it?" he said.

"A great dream." She stopped, took his hand, and held it to her belly. "Feel him moving?"

"Him?"

"Or her. I just don't want to call the baby 'it' while we're waiting."

Steve placed both hands on her stomach.

"My mom and her friends used to say that if you carry low as you get bigger it's a boy."

"Old wives tale?"

Steve shrugged. "From what I remember they were never wrong."

"Interesting." She turned to the side. "What do you think?"

"I think it's too soon to tell without a sonogram." He smiled and kissed her forehead.

"Well, I don't want to know. This is one of life's natural surprises."

"No argument here."

He took her hand and pulled her forward again. They walked in silence under a cloudless sky. The moon glinted off the rippling water, lighting their path between the harsh streetlights.

"Hey," Steve said. "There's a food truck. You want something sweet?"

"Sure. I'm going to wait by the rail. The water is so beautiful tonight."

Steve glanced around the area, and nodded. "Ok. I'll be right there."

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, then joined the short line while Leah walked toward the protective rail by the river. She glanced at Steve and smiled. Married to the best man she ever knew, about to be the mother of his child, she couldn't imagine being happier.

She stared at the water until someone grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.

"Purse. Now."

Leah froze and the man grabbed at her purse.

"Steve!"

—

The panic in her voice got him running before he even realized what was happening. The man tugged at her purse.

"Hey!"

The mugger saw Steve and went into a frenzy. He ripped the purse from Leah as Steve approached, then shoved Leah into Steve and took off running.

Leah scrambled back, and Steve set her on the ground.

"You're ok. I'll get him."

"Steve."

Leah pulled her bright red hand away from her stomach.

"Oh, shit," he whispered.

Steve knelt down and tugged at her shirt. Two knife wounds to the stomach.

"Shit!"

He lifted Leah from the ground and ran.

"Hold on, sweetheart. The hospital is close."

"Steve…"

A sob rose in her throat, and Steve pumped his legs harder.

"You'll be fine. Hold on."

—

Steve tried to fill out paperwork after they rushed her into the back. They had to find out the extent of her injury, and he wasn't allowed to go with her, but he couldn't focus on the papers. Not really.

He called Sam, who was there in less than fifteen minutes.

"Any word?"

"Not yet."

Sam took the pen and clipboard from him, and asked him for any answers he didn't know.

"She'll be fine. The doctors will take care of her."

"You didn't see the blood."

"Actually…" Sam pointed to Steve's jacket, stained red.

"Right."

Steve pulled the jacket off and threw it in the trash. He didn't sit back down after that. He just paced back and forth for what felt like hours.

"I can't lose them, Sam."

"I know."

"I can't."

"Mr. Rogers?"

Steve spun around to face the doctor. A short man with a kind face that held a frown.

"Oh, God."

Sam stood behind Steve and squeezed his shoulder.

"Is my wife ok?"

"She's stable."

Steve let out a breath.

"She lost a lot of blood, and the knife perforated the placenta."

Steve leaned over and put his hands on his knees.

"We were losing your wife, and the stress was endangering the baby. So, we did an emergency cesarean."

"What?" Steve stood back up. "It's too soon."

The doctor nodded. "It is early at twenty-five weeks, but it was the only way to not lose them both. Once the baby was out, we were able to get Leah stabilized."

"What about the baby?"

"He's in the NICU."

Steve rubbed at the back of his neck.

"When can I see her?"

"She's in recovery. She'll stay there until she wakes up, then we'll move her to a private room."

"And the baby?"

"For now, he's ok, but he's been put under stress, and—"

"What are the odds?"

"Fifty percent."

Steve took in a sharp breath and turned away.

"I can take you to the NICU if you'd like."

Steve nodded. "Can Sam come back?"

"I'm sorry. Visitors are limited. It's for the safety of all the babies there."

"I understand, doc," Sam said. He clasped Steve's shoulder. "Go see your boy. Call me if you need anything."

"Can you bring me a go bag? I have a couple packed for emergencies. In the hall closet." He handed Sam his keys.

"I'll be back in a few."

"Thanks."

"This way," the doctor said.

Steve followed him down the hall and into an elevator. It felt like it took forever to get there, and put on a protective gown, but he was finally looking down at his son in an incubator. Tubes were everywhere. He was so small. Less than two pounds.

He pulled a chair close, and reached inside, but he was too afraid to touch the baby.

"You hang on, son."

A tear slipped down his cheek, and he wiped it away. He had to be strong now. For the baby. For Leah. They were both alive, and they needed him.

—

"Mr. Rogers?"

Steve pulled his eyes away from his son and looked up at the nurse. She gave a small smile.

"Your wife has been moved to her room. She's asking for you."

Steve was so torn. He wanted to go to Leah, but he didn't want to leave the baby.

"Your baby is in good hands, sir. They'll take care of him."

Steve nodded, relieved he didn't have to explain his hesitation.

"I'll be back," he whispered.

—

Leah was curled on her side, faced away from the door when Steve entered the room. Her shoulders shook, and Steve fought back his own tears.

"Sweetheart?"

At the sound of his voice, Leah sobbed. Steve squeezed behind her on the bed and leaned into her. He slipped his arm under hers and pulled her shoulder back toward him.

"I'm here."

"I'm so sorry, Steve."

"This is not your fault."

"I should have stayed with you."

"Hey… it's not your fault. I love you."

"I love you."

He kissed the back of her head, and pressed his forehead to it.

"Get some rest."

"How can I? Our baby is—"

"Is fine. He's in the NICU."

"They told me everything, Steve. What if he doesn't make it?"

"He will."

"Did you see him?"

"I did. I'll ask about taking you to see him later, but you have to get some rest first."

She nodded and wiped her tears. "Ok."

Leah took Steve's hand and clutched it against her face on her pillow. He whispered in her ear how much he loved her, and that everything would be all right. He only wished he believed that himself.

—

Steve pushed Leah's wheelchair into the NICU. Her hand flew to her mouth when she looked at her son, and she grabbed Steve's hand.

"I know he's small," Steve said, "but I can tell he's a fighter."

"He's so small."

"The nurse said he put on an ounce."

"That's good, right?"

"That's good."

Leah slipped her hand into the incubator and brushed her finger over the baby's hand.

"We need to name him."

"We have time for that, Leah."

"No. I want to name him now. I want to call him by his name let him know he's loved."

Steve knelt next to the wheelchair.

"All right. We'll name him. Do you remember the ones you liked best for a boy?"

She squeezed Steve's hand. "I want to name him after his father."

"I thought we agreed not to do that, so he wouldn't be saddled with my history?"

"I need my boy to be a fighter. He needs a fighter's name."

"Leah…"

"Please, Steve."

"Ok." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then her lips. "Ok. But we're not calling him Junior as a nickname."

Leah smiled a little, and Steve returned it.

"I completely agree."

She lifted little Steve's small hand with her finger, and took in a shuddering breath.

"How could everything go so wrong, so fast?"

Steve stood and rubbed her shoulders. "I don't know, sweetheart. I wish I did. Maybe I could have stopped it."

Leah put her hand over his. "There was nothing you could do."

"I could have run faster. I could have—"

"Stop it, Steve. Just stop. Focus on your son."

He pulled a chair next to hers and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry."

"So am I."

—

Leah pressed her forehead against the glass, and stared at the healthy babies, just waiting to go home. She clutched her son's blanket to her chest.

"There you are."

Steve pulled her into his arms, but she kept her eyes on the nursery.

"I asked you to wait for me while I grabbed your bag."

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to…"

Steve brushed his hand over her hair and rested his cheek on her head.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"Because we should be bringing our baby home. I should still be pregnant!"

"Leah—"

"Two months, Steve. Two months of waiting to lose him."

"I know."

She sobbed against his chest.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let's go home."

"It's not fair."

"I know."

She shoved at his chest and pulled away.

"Stop being so calm about this. You lost your child!"

Steve clenched his fists. "We'll talk about it at home, Leah."

"I don't wanna talk. Just get me out of here."

—

Steve sat in the corner of the porch while he talked on the phone. He didn't want Leah to overhear. He needed to take a break.

"Maybe you can come talk to her, Nat."

"I'm not exactly the pep talk type. I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"I just can't get through to her. We painted the nursery when we found out she was pregnant, but never got anything else done. She just sits on the floor of the empty room. When I suggested making it a guest room…"

"Didn't go over so well?"

"She got up and slammed the door in my face. It's been three weeks, Nat. She acts like I'm the enemy. She tells me I'm stone, but…"

"You're trying to be strong for her."

"Am I wrong to want to support her?"

"Maybe that's not what she needs. Maybe she needs to see that your grief is as bad as hers."

"That's ridiculous. She knows I'm grieving."

"Does she? She called you stone?"

"Shit." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I don't know what to do."

"Let yourself grieve. Stop trying to be her rock."

"I'll call you later."

"Steve…"

"I hear you, Nat. I have to go."

Steve disconnected the call as the tears started to flow. He'd driven the love of his life away trying to be strong for her, and he completely missed it.

The clatter of the storm door drew his attention. Leah stepped out and dropped a duffle by her feet.

"What are you doing?"

Steve stood and took a step forward. Leah startled, and sighed.

"I thought you left."

"That's not what I asked. What's with the bag?"

"Just a few necessary things."

"For what?"

"Until I can send for everything else."

Steve took another step forward. "Oh, God. Don't do this."

"I can't keep going like this, Steve."

"I can't lose you."

"You already have. I'm not the same woman. I'm broken. I know that."

"No." Steve dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around her hips, his face pressed into her stomach. "Don't leave me. I love you.

"I love you, too, but I don't know how to be your wife anymore." Her voice broke as a sob caught in her throat. "I killed your baby."

"What?"

"I should have given him my purse. I shouldn't have held onto it, but I—"

Steve got to his feet and squeezed her arms.

"Stop. That was not your fault."

"If I'd have just given it to him—"

Tears streamed down her face, and Steve pulled her into his arms and let her cry.

"It's normal to feel guilt, but it was not your fault, sweetheart."

She pushed out of his arms.

"Right, because you feel guilt? Do you feel anything? All you ever do is ask me what I need."

"How is that bad?"

"I don't need anything. My child was murdered before he was even born!" Leah's knees gave way, and Steve caught her. "God, why?"

"I don't know why."

Steve lowered them both to the porch. He wrapped his arms around her and cried into her neck.

"I miss him, Leah. I barely got to hold him, and I miss him, and it's my fault."

"What?"

"Captain America can't protect his own family. I should have been able to stop him."

Leah reached up and ran a hand through his hair. "You tried."

"Tried isn't good enough. And he got away. The bastard is still out there."

Leah pulled back and lifted his face, wet with tears. Eyes red.

"I almost lost you," he said. "We lost Stevie. Don't leave. It'll kill me. I can't lose you."

"I don't know how to move past the pain. It hurts so much, Steve."

"We can talk to someone. A grief counselor. Someone. But we do it together. We have to do it together."

Leah glanced at her duffle, but Steve pulled her face back to him.

"For God's sake, Leah. Stay with me."

He pressed his forehead to hers. His hands pet over her face and hair as he whispered "please stay" and "I love you" over and over.

"Ok. Together."

Steve pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

"I love you, too," she whispered.

They held each other on the porch and cried. Not sure how to get back to each other. They just knew it would take time, and they would do it together.


End file.
